


Take My Pain Away

by Abiwim



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-07-18 20:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abiwim/pseuds/Abiwim
Summary: This fic is based off an imagine by blankdblank over on Tumblr.If you are a stickler for lore, I’d suggest you not read this!Abra, a cursed dwarf, joins the quest to win back Erebor.This does not follow true Hobbit lore, either the book or films. There are parts of the quest that I will skim over in their entirety and parts that will be full of detail. Some of my story may alter the quest significantly.





	1. Chapter 1

She flinched away from the human as he tried to make contact with her arm. “Don’t touch me!”

“Come now, little dwarf, I mean you no harm.”

“You know naught of harm, man of Rohan.” The dwarrowdam straightened to her full height of 4’10”, quite tall for a female, and looked up into the man’s eye. “You need to be more wary of who you try to touch. There is much you do not know of in Middle Earth.”

Abrâ was passing through Rohan on her way to Bree to meet with Incànus*. She had decided, perhaps incorrectly, to stay a day in the village located where the Entwash and Snowbourn meet. A day to refresh her pony and acquire necessary supplies. She should have kept moving. The people of Rohan were not accustomed to seeing dwarves.

It had taken her a week to get to this particular village. She had travelled from her home in the hills of Ered Lithui, through the Dead Marshes and, skirting the base of Sarn Gebir, crossed the grassy plains to the conflux of the two rivers.

Now all she wanted was a meal, some ale and a good nights’ sleep in a soft bed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man once again reach for her arm. In a flash she drew the dagger from the belt at her waist and laid the flat of it against the man’s forearm.

“I mean what I say, human! Do not touch me.”

The man looked pointedly at the dagger, his face flushing red. His hand moved toward it when, from nearby, a voice shouted, “Dougal! Leave the lass alone!”

A woman was crossing the floor of the crowded pub; her red hair was like a mane about her face, which was growling like a lion. She huffed to a stop beside Abrâ’s stool and took Dougal’s ear in her left hand.

“Pardon my dunderhead of a husband, miss. He is simply curious about dwarves.” She turned to her husband and started to drag him away. Abrâ could hear her berating him all the way back to the kitchens, “How many times do I hafta tell you to leave the customers alone? You big oaf!”

 Abrâ turned to the bartender, eyes wide. “Is it always like this around here?”

“No, lass,” he shrugged. “Dougal’ll not have seen a dwarf before. He doesn’t come from these parts.” The bartender passed a plate of mutton, potatoes and carrots toward Abrâ, who quickly put both hands in her lap.

“Thank you,” she nodded to the bartender before tucking into her meal. She signaled for another ale and carefully pushed another piece of gold across the top of the bar.

***

Early the next morning she led the pony by its bridle as she perused the stalls of the market. She purchased food, a sturdy blanket and a wide brimmed hat. She was on the edge of the market, repacking her saddle bags when she spied a stall of leather goods. She wandered over and ran her eyes along the gloves; she fingered a few finely tanned pieces before she spied a thicker pair.

“Might I see those?” she asked politely as she pointed at the gloves.

“My dear girl,” the shopkeeper drawled, “surely these would be preferable?” He had in his hand a beautiful pair of dun coloured gloves, dainty and covered with beadwork.

For a moment Abrâ allowed herself to admire the beautifully worked gloves, before she shook her head clear and said firmly, “No, the thick ones please.”

The shopkeeper shrugged and held out the plain black gloves.

“Please put them down,” she said.

Once again, he shrugged and laid them down in front of her. She picked them up and examined them closely. She checked the seams before trying them on. ‘Will these work,’ she wondered.

She put the gloves on, reached out her hand and put her finger to the skin of the leather seller. Almost instantly, she hissed in pain and drew back her finger. No, these would not do. She removed the gloves, smiled and placed them on the counter before turning back to her pony.

“Come, pony. Let us be on our way.”


	2. Chapter 2

Abrâ sighed deeply when she was able to hand her pony off to the stable master of The Prancing Pony. She gave him a pat on the neck and leaned in close to his ear, “Now you be a good pony. Don’t be giving this gentleman any trouble, you hear?”

The pony whinnied and tossed his head as the man said, “Don’t you worry miss. He will be well taken care of.”

She smiled gratefully at him, “Thank you, he is my best companion.” With a final pat, she crossed the threshold of the inn and was delighted to find people of all heights. Here, she decided, she could fit in.

She was curious about the tiny dwarves; she was not at all familiar with this breed of her kind. She scrabbled up onto a stool and ordered an ale from the barkeep.

The tiny dwarf on the stool next to her smiled and held his hand out in greeting. She smiled back, but did not take his hand. Instead she said, “Good afternoon dwarf. My name is Abrâ, what is yours?”

The dwarf looked at her, taken aback. “I am no dwarf. No, no lass, I am Longwater, a Hobbit of the Shire.”

“A Hobbit?” She cocked her head, making note of the differences she now saw. The Hobbit was considerably smaller than she, with wild curly hair and no beard. She looked him up and down and smiled widely when she spotted his hairy feet. “My goodness,” she exclaimed. “I have never seen a person like you in my whole life!”

“You had best get used to it if you mean to stay in these parts, lass. The little blighters are everywhere,” the bartender declared.

“Now see here Toddlebright!” the Hobbit snarled. “You just watch out who yer talkin’ to!”

“Oh, pardon me _Mr_. Longwater,” he responded, sarcastically. “I had forgotten my place, again.” He rolled his eyes at Abrâ.

She giggled and said, “I am sure you are all quite respectable.”

“Not this one,” Toddlebright said, jerking a thumb at Longwater before belly laughing.

“Harrumph,” the Hobbit pouted.

Abrâ turned to Toddlebright and asked, “You would not have happened to have seen Incànus, have you?”

“I’m sorry miss…who?”

“Oh,” she looked worried. “Incànus. He is a wizard.” She gestured as she described the wizard, “Grey cloak, long grey beard, pointy grey hat.”

“You must mean Gandalf!” he grumbled. “Was in here yesterday making a fuss about dwarves…”

“Did he say when he would be back?”

“Said he was going to Hobbiton to see Mr.Baggins up that way and would be back in 3 days.”

Abrâ slumped in her stool. 3 days. She would have to wait 3 days. She turned to Longwater, “Do you know where Hobbiton is?”

“Course I do, lass. I live there, don’t I?”

“Do you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And how long does it take to get there?”

“Oh, less than a day. You just have to go through the forest and cross Brandywine bridge…maybe a day.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at Longwater and turned to the bartender. “Could I get a room for tonight? I shall make my way to Hobbiton tomorrow.”

The bartender turned to the back wall and got a key; he turned back to Abrâ and held it out to her.

She smiled softly and asked, “Can you please put it down?”

The bartender looked at her strange but put the key down, from whence Abrâ picked it up. “Thank you.”

Longwater was about to tap her on the shoulder when she slid herself from her stool with an “Oh!”

“Pardon me, lass. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, no you didn’t frighten me,” she shrugged a shoulder and continued, “I simply do not like to be touched.”

“Alrighty, girl. I will be heading back to Hobbiton tomorrow. I’d be pleased to accompany you.”

Abrâ smiled widely, “Oh thank you Mr. Longwater! That is very kind!”

***

The next morning Abrâ was standing outside The Prancing Pony, waiting patiently for Mr. Longwater. Her patience started to wear as she watched the sun grow in the sky. She tied pony to the hitching post and made her way back inside.

She searched the pub for the Hobbit. She finally spied him in a booth at the back of the dining room.

She stopped at the table and stood with her fists at her waist. “Mr. Longwater, here you are. I have been waiting for you for more than an hour.”

“Oh! Good morning Miss.” The Hobbit fussed with the items on the table: knives, forks, a tray of toast, marmalade, and continued, “I thought I should take the opportunity for second breakfast before getting a start to the day.”

“Second breakfast?”

“Indeed! It is a long way to Elevensies.”

“Elevensies?” Abrâ gave her head a slight shake and glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 9:45. She asked, “Will you be much longer?” Longwater did not answer, he simply gestured at the full table with the sweep of his hand. She raised her brows and stated, “I take that as a no, then.”

Longwater grinned at her.

“Well, I must meet with Incànus sooner rather than later; so I am going to take my leave and make my own way to Hobbiton.”

“As you wish, lass. That is entirely up to you,” Longwater held out his hand to shake, however Abrâ simply bowed to him.

Agitated, Abrâ hurried from the pub and swung herself up into her saddle. She put her heels gently to pony and he moved forward at a steady amble. She enjoyed the feel of the fresh air against her face as she passed by the small forest. It was very rare for a pleasant wind to pass through where she came from; more often than not all they got were dry, dusty winds full of the heat of Mordor.

She leaned forward against pony’s neck and whispered to him, “Isn’t this lovely? Could you imagine living in such a place?”

Pony whinnied and she responded, “I suppose I would miss the mountains and the stone, but surely I could spread my time between the two…” She sighed. At some point she would have to go back home, her parents would expect it of her. Dwarrowdams were so very rare, she would be married off for certain.

It did not take her long to reach the Brandywine Bridge. As soon as she reached the far side a feeling of utter contentment washed over her. She was enchanted by the lush, green fields and the mighty trees surrounding her.

Abrâ dismounted and led pony to the rivers’ edge. Crouching beside his head, she reached a hand into the river to cup the running water into her hands.  She splashed water onto pony’s face and laughed as he shook his head, his ears wobbling from side to side. She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Oh pony, you are a silly goose!”

“Abrâ?” The dam turned from her pony, pulling a dagger from her waist. “Umbakhul du IgrÌd e Abrâsh! It is you.”

Abrâ lowered her dagger and, shielding her eyes from the sun, looked up at the tall man astride a horse. “Ah,” she said as a smile grew on her lips, “Incànus. I was on my way to find you.”

Gandalf dismounted and moved to hug Abrâ. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, causing the wizard to gasp. “Not so tight now, Abrâ. I still need to breathe.”

“I’m sorry Incànus, I forget my strength.”

It was at this moment that Abrâ noticed the people’s with whom Gandalf was traveling. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she beheld the 13 dwarves. “Mahal, but who have you here?”

“Ah, young Abrâ, this is why I wanted you to meet me in Bree.” Gandalf spread his arm toward the group and introduced them, “This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror,” Abrâ immediately bowed low, “and his companions and kin.”

“Your majesty,” she murmured, “It is an honour to meet you.”

“Gandalf, who is this dam?”

“Ah Thorin, she hails from the Ered Lithui.” Upon hearing this all of the dwarves started whispering to each other. “I have asked her to join in with your quest. The population has fallen drastically in her homeland and I thought…” Gandalf trailed off and stroked his beard nervously.

“You thought what?” Thorin responded, his deep voice quivering with distrust. “Are you thinking that we should take them in?”

Gandalf had the good sense to look rebuked.

Thorin shoved his reins into the hands of his nephew, Fili and made his way to the wizard and female dwarf. “Do I not have enough with my own people? Is it not bad enough that we must contend with a Hobbit, but that you want me to watch out for a dam, as well?”

Abrâ’s brow crinkled in consternation. She stood tall and stepped forward, “Pardon me, your majesty, but I do not need any dwarrow to watch out for me! I am more than capable of holding my own. I grew up with Mordor on my doorstep; I assure you I have seen much fighting of creatures you cannot fathom!”

“No!” he shouted, emphasizing by making a chopping sign with his arm. “We are full-up!”

“Harrumph,” a wide, white-haired dwarf stepped close to the king. “Thorin, we surely could use all the hands available to us.” Thorin glared at him, while he raised his chin and an eyebrow. “We are facing a dragon, after all.”

Thorin looked around at the other dwarves, some of them were nodding their heads, while some were eyeballing the dam. Finally, Thorin sighed and said, “All right Balin,” he glanced to the wizard, “Gandalf; she can accompany us to the Misty Mountains.” He scowled and held up his hand, “And then she can turn south for home.”

Gandalf looked at Abrâ and grinned. ‘Crazy old wizard,’ she thought. ‘He had no doubt.’

To Thorin, she bowed and said, “Thank you, your majesty. It would be my great pleasure to prove my worth to you.”

Thorin scoffed and remounted his pony.

Abrâ mounted pony and settled in at the back of the queue of dwarves. She regarded the man beside her and determined that he must be Mr. Baggins. She nodded to him and remarked, “You are a Hobbit.”

Bilbo grinned, “Indeed I am. I am Bilbo Baggins.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Baggins”

“Bilbo, please.”

“Thank you, Bilbo. I am Abrâ.”

Bilbo wiped his hand on his thigh and held it out to Abrâ. She did not shake his hand, only nodded to him once again. He looked around, rather confused, and nodded back. ‘Maybe, it is not customary to shake hands where she comes from…’ thought the hobbit.

Ignoring the shouts and disturbances from the forward group, Abrâ regarded the hobbit closely. He was even smaller than Mr. Longwater, but he was of a more pleasing countenance. His hair was light in colour and came down onto his neck in curls. He had a pleasant smile and seemed to be an all-around genial fellow.

“Bilbo?”

“Mmmm?” he replied.

“Might I suggest lowering your hands?” She gestured toward the way he was sitting the saddle, “If you lower your hands,” he followed her instruction. “Yes, like that. Now try relaxing your spine and keeping your heels down.”

Bilbo did as she instructed and found he felt more comfortable in the saddle. “Oh, that works better!” He leaned forward ever so carefully and said to his pony, “Is that better Mindy?” who tossed her head in response.

Thorin stiffened in his saddle as he heard the sound of her laughter. He had been away from his kin for a long time, and had come to forget the pure joy of a dam’s laugh. Her laugh was sweet and gentle, much like the dam herself. He snorted thinking of her in battle. He was angry and resentful that he had been manipulated by the wizard yet again.


	3. Chapter 3

The group rode along the East-West road as far as Weathertop before stopping for the night. At the base of the tall outcropping the dwarves were busy setting up camp, gathering firewood and getting a meal prepared.

Abrâ stood looking up at the great watchtower, now crumbling and forgotten. “Amon Sul,” she murmured.

Beside her, Bilbo stated, “Not much to look at now.”

Abrâ glanced at the hobbit, “Arveleg was slain defending this tower by the witch-king of Angmar. It is a place of great sorrow and much death.”

At that moment a scream rent the sky.

Bilbo jumped, “Wh-what was that?”

Abrâ grinned at him, “It was an owl, Master Baggins. Just an owl.”

Bilbo giggled nervously and took a jerky step back, “Hehe, it’s a little spooky here.” He ran his hands up and down his thigh and nodded to the fire, “Perhaps we should get back to the others.” He walked backward for a few steps, “Are you coming?”

“I will be along momentarily Bilbo.” His eyes widened with fear. She assured him, “I will be fine, Master Baggins. Thank you.”

Once Bilbo had gone she searched the ground for a few moments before she found what she was looking for. Working quickly (she didn’t want to give Thorin any more reasons to dislike her…) she created a small altar out of flat stones. She reached into the medicine pouch she carried around her neck and took a pinch of the herbs within. These she mixed with grass and laid them in the space under her small temple. She lit the offering with her flint and said a small prayer, “Oh spirit of Arveleg, please see us safely on our journey. May you find rest in the halls of your fathers.”

Abrâ took a deep breath before making her way to the camp. As she entered the firelight Bombur was trying to haul himself to his feet, she interrupted him, “Please Master Bombur, stay seated. I will serve myself.” She gathered a bowl, ladled out some stew and took a seat under a tree well away from the others.

She sat eating her meal and observing the dwarves. In all they seemed to be quite merry, despite the nature of their quest. In time a tall dwarf in a floppy hat rose from his seat and started to play a jaunty tune on a flute. He danced around the firelight as the others clapped in time, eventually one of the young dwarves started singing.

It was an unusual sight for her. In her homeland there wasn’t much singing and dancing. They tended to be quieter, it behooved them to not attract much attention; they never knew what kind of attention, good or bad, they might attract. The only time they really celebrated was when members of the Dùnedain would venture into their territory. The extra protection they provided gave the dwarves of Ered Lithui a reason to celebrate.

Bilbo made his way to where Abrâ lounged, taking deep inhalations of her pipe. She grinned at the hobbit as he patted at his coat before he pulled his own pipe from an inside pocket. She offered him some of her tobacco, which he accepted and, using a splinter of wood, lit his pipe.

They sat in amiable silence for many minutes. Abrâ could feel herself getting sleepy and tapped out her pipe. She struggled against falling asleep…

The morning sun intruded on Abrâ’s sleep. She was still propped up against the tree trunk, however someone had laid a blanket across her. She opened her eyes and winced in pain. She felt achy all over, her back hurt and her thighs were throbbing, the muscles spasming.

She rolled into a position on all fours and tried to stretch out her back. She groaned in misery just as Thorin passed by.

“Was it too much on you? Sleeping in the rough?”

Abrâ glared up at him, “No, your highness. I am quite accustomed to sleeping against a tree.” She ducked her head, “To be honest, I am not quite sure what is wrong.”

Thorin shrugged, “Just so long as you don’t slow us down.”

“That will not happen, majesty.” She glared after the man as he walked away. ‘What a miserable old codger,’ she thought. ‘What in Mahal’s name am I doing with this bunch? I don’t care about some smelly dragon in the Lonely Mountain.’ She shook her head, ‘I need to stop listening to Incànus so much.’

Slowly she got to her feet and twisted her body at the waist, trying to work out the kinks. She could understand some achiness in the back from sleeping against the tree, but she was baffled as to why her thighs were so sore! It was almost as if she had never sat a saddle before, instead of being in one almost since she could walk.

She limped to the campfire where Bombur ladled out leftovers from last nights’ dinner. He handed her the bowl and simply shrugged when she asked him to put it down for her. She thanked him profusely and took a seat beside the fire. As she was eating, Bilbo made his way to her. She was surprised to see him walking quite normally; it was common for those who had not set a saddle before to be quite incapacitated by their first time.

“Good morning, Miss Abrâ! How are you this fine morning?”

“Good day, Bilbo. To be honest, I am in quite some pain this morning.” Bilbo looked distressed. “Nothing to worry about, just a little stiff from sleeping against the tree all night.”

“No doubt I didn’t help!” Bilbo chuckled.

“Pardon me. What do you mean?”

Bilbo flushed red, “I beg your pardon, but I fell asleep right up against you last night. I woke before you and thought I should, at least, cover you with my blanket.”

“You fell asleep touching me?” Abrâ placed her bowl on the ground and rose. “Oh!”

Bilbo leapt up, concerned for his new friend. “Are you alright? Should I get Gandalf?”

It took a moment for Abrâ to register his concern. She smiled down at him, “No, no. It is quite alright Mr. Baggins. All will be fine.” She picked up her bowl and continued, “Perhaps we should get ready to leave. It seems my fellow dwarrow are preparing.” She cleaned her bowl and made her way to her pony without saying anything more.

Bilbo watched her walk away, quite perplexed.

For the rest of the day, Abrâ made sure to keep her distance from everyone. Gandalf and Bilbo kept glancing at her with concern, while Thorin grimaced and glared. It was a long ride for Abrâ, her back did not stop hurting and her thighs were still throbbing when they made camp again that night.

She asked Bombur if he had any mustard seed and had him put some in a bowl for her. She mixed the seed with the herbs from her pouch and ground them together; finally she added a few drops of water and set it to boil over the fire, down into a paste.

While it boiled, she made her way to a nearby creek and stripped down to nothing. She eased herself into the creek and, digging her elbows into the sandy bottom, floated and relaxed for a time.

She exited the creek and was in the process of wringing water from her long hair when she heard a noise from behind her. She whirled to find Thorin staring at her. She realised she was still naked, blushed a bit and then grinned. With much more bravado than she felt, she lifted her head and drew herself to her full height.

“Good evening, your majesty.” She bowed. “Can I help you with something?”

Thorin simply stood, rooted to the spot, with his mouth partway open. After a few moments, he stumbled backward and muttered, “Excuse me-I’m sorry-Pardon,” before turning and walking briskly away.

Abrâ chuckled as he strode back to the camp.

When she returned to camp she removed her concoction from the fire and retreated to her bedroll. She allowed the mixture to cool a bit before smearing it across 2 lengths of cloth, which she wrapped around each thigh, ensuring that they were snug and would not slip off.

She pulled from her saddle bags a notebook and began sketching the trees surrounding them. She picked from the ground examples of the leaves and bark and copied their likenesses to her book. She went so far as to smell her samples and make notes about all she saw and smelled.

A shadow appeared across her bedroll and she looked up to find Thorin standing above her holding her bowl of supper. He crouched down and placed the bowl in front of her, he cleared his throat and mumbled, “I’m sorry for gawking.”

“Pardon me, your majesty?” She looked at him without guile.

He smirked and repeated, “I am sorry for gawking at you. I must have seemed like a young dwarrow, with no experience in life.”

Abrâ smiled and nodded, “Aye, you did.”

Thorin frowned, “I didn’t expect to come across a naked dam…right before my eyes…who would think they would see that in the wild?”

“It is alright, your highness. No harm was done.” She looked up at Thorin, her lips twitching, “I am sure you have seen a naked dam before.”

“Of course I have,” Thorin sputtered.

“And…?”

“And?”

Abrâ smiled crookedly, “What did you think?”

Normally, Abrâ would never speak like this to a dwarrow let alone the king of Erebor, but there was something about Thorin that made her want to push. He was arrogant, and yet curious. He was strong and handsome and bore his responsibility well. She felt that his blue eyes could see into her soul.

Thorin rose to his feet and turned his head to hide the flush that appeared across his cheeks. He cleared his throat, “You would do.”

Abrâ laughed. Thorin was reminded of the first time he heard the sound and then he, too, started to laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

For the next few days Abrâ stayed at the back of the line of ponies. She had a desperate fear of being touched again. At mealtimes, she would retreat to her bedroll. Occasionally, Bilbo would sit and chat with her. Eventually, Fili and Kili migrated to her sleeping area as well. Abrâ made certain that they stayed well away from her, but she had come to appreciate the company.

Fili and Kili, nephews to his majesty Thorin, were a silly pair. Often, their chatter would end up in a wrestling match, or persistent punches to the shoulder; quite often Bilbo had to dodge out of the way. They were like a pair of puppies; lovable, but sometimes you wanted to send them into their corner.

One evening Kili continually asked why she stayed far away from everyone. Abrâ’s simple “I don’t like to be touched” did not satisfy his curiosity. He grabbed her by the wrist and tried to pull her to the campfire.

She let out an agonized groan and pulled away from him, clutching at her jaw. She fell to her knees, and proclaimed, “How can you stand this pain?”

Kili stood over her and shrugged. He was baffled, how did she know about his toothache? He hadn’t told anyone besides Fili, who he was sure would not spread it around. He didn’t want anyone thinking he couldn’t handle a little pain.

“I-I-It’s just a little toothache…” Having it brought up made him aware, once again, of the actual pain he was feeling. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Abrâ scrambled to her feet. “Not that bad?” She was screeching. “Oin!” She stomped toward the campfire. “Oin! Get your tools. Kili needs a tooth extracted!”

The camp broke down into mayhem. Dwarves were scattering, others were watching the proceedings in confusion. Oin was shaking his head at the dam, “What are you talking about, Lassie? Kili has no said anything about no toothache.”

Abrâ was still clutching at her jaw, she had turned pale and was breathing heavily. “Trust me, he needs this,” she opened her mouth and pointed at her back molar, “tooth pulled.”

“Are ya sure it’s no you who needs the tooth pulled?”

Abrâ shouted across the camp, “Fili, get your brother and bring him here!”

Fili, knowing about the tooth, grimaced at his brother and declared, “Alright brother, it is time to take care of it.”

Kili was backing away, inch by inch, and was just about to make a run for it when Dwalin wrapped his big arms around him and lifted him off the ground. Kili was drumming his heels against Dwalin’s shins and wriggling, trying desperately to get free; but there was to be none of that.

Meanwhile, Abrâ was sitting, rocking back and forth moaning, “How can you live with it? Mahal, it hurts!”

Thorin was hovering over her, asking how he could help. “Just hold your nephew down!”

By now Dwalin had deposited Kili on the ground against a tree, he was sitting on Kili’s feet while Bofur and Bifur were holding his arms. Oin had his pliers at hand, but Kili was refusing to open his mouth. Until his uncle stood before him, hands on his hips, glaring at the younger Durin.

Kili groaned and gave up, opening his mouth wide. In minutes it was over and Kili was fascinated, looking at his molar. Abrâ was still in pain and, pulling her medicine pouch over her head, handed it to Gandalf while she muttered about using it.

Gandalf took the pouch to Oin, who was preparing wrapped pieces of cloth for Kili to bite down on. He sprinkled some of the herbs on the cloths and handed the pouch back to Gandalf.

He was about to return it to Abrâ when he noticed a tile sewn into the pouch. It appeared to be a rune. Gandalf wasn’t fluent in Khuzdul and the Dwarvish variants of the language, but he knew someone nearby who was…He copied the rune and tucked his copy into his bag for safe keeping.

Once Kili’s tooth had been pulled and he had been given something for the pain Abrâ’s own torment ended. That night she did not sit up, as soon as the pain had ceased she had dragged herself to her bedroll and dropped into deep sleep.

The dwarves spent the evening discussing what had happened. They turned to Gandalf for answers, but he had none. The dwarves all agreed that Abrâ was a nice girl, but perhaps it would be best for her to turn off for home now.

***

Abrâ did not leave them. Gandalf had convinced them to let her continue on to the Misty Mountains. Thorin wasn’t happy about it; truth be told, he was becoming enamoured with her.

They travelled hard that day and were making camp when Abrâ spotted Incànus storming off on his own. She felt a flash of concern but thought, of any of them, he was the only one who could safely go off on his own.

She was off on her own when she noticed the dwarves heading off into the woods. She snuck after them and hid behind a tree, observing the 3 towering trolls. She joined the fight with much vigor, but managed to sneak away when Bilbo was caught and was dangled between 2 of the beasts.

She watched in horror as she saw the trolls truss up half of the dwarves and turn them on a spit. The rest were stuffed into sacs and left to stew in their own juices. Despite struggling with her wish to engage the trolls, she decided it would be best for her to go in search of Incànus.

She ran off into the bush and searched frantically for the wizard. Far to the east she could see the sun start to rise. She was becoming desperate in her search for Incànus, and trying to decide if she should return and try to lure the trolls into the sun when she came across him treading a path back and forth, muttering under his breath.

“Incànus!” Gandalf jumped when he heard her call out. “The dwarves! They are going to be eaten by trolls!”

“Lead the way,” he exclaimed. He hurried to stay with her as she dodged around trees.

As they got closer they sprinted quietly through the trees, Abrâ saw Bilbo distracting the trolls. She pointed it out to Incànus, who indicated that she should stay where she was as he spotted a rock formation with the sun just starting to peak over.

Gandalf raised his staff and smashed it into the rock, shouting, “The dawn will take you all!”

Miraculously, the trolls turn to stone.

Everyone works to get the dwarves out of their bindings, everyone except Abrâ. Thorin watches her, his anger rising.

“You there! Girl!”

Abrâ’s eyes widen in fear as she sees the king striding toward her.

“What are you doing? Are you too good to help? Where were you?”

Gandalf tries to interrupt, to explain her seeking him out however Thorin ignores him.

“What good are you, if you are not here to fight? You said that you had skill-“

“Uncle!” Kili shouted, breaking in on Thorin. “She was fighting with us, but __she__  was smart enough to not get caught.”

“She went in search of me,” Gandalf says, exasperated.

Thorin halted and drew himself up. “Oh,” was all he said. He turned and stalked away saying, “If there were trolls there must be a cave here somewhere.”

Abrâ stood watching them walk away. ‘What __am__  I doing here? I should just go home. I don’t know what Incànus was thinking by bringing me here.’

Never one to wallow in self-pity, she immediately pulls out her sword when she hears Thorin shout, “Someone’s coming!” and runs to join the dwarves.

She is on high-alert when she sees the rabbits burst through the foliage as Radagast yells, “Thieves! Fire! Murder!”

She is not as surprised as the others, as she has heard of Radagast; however she has never seen him before. She is shocked by the sight of him with his floppy hat, gnarly teeth and, she wrinkles her nose – ‘Is that bird poop in his hair?’

As Incànus speaks with the brown wizard the dwarves plan their next steps. Abrâ stands between the two groups, a part of neither.

Thus it is that she hears a noise in the distance. A sound she has not heard in many years.

She makes her way to the dwarves and calls out, “Thorin!”

Thorin hears her, but chooses to not listen. “Thorin!” she shouts again. “Wargs!”

The dwarves stop speaking and all look at her. “Listen,” she says, as she cups her ear.

Suddenly, a giant creature, much like a wolf, appears on the rock outcropping overhead. He lunges for the dwarves, but Thorin makes short work of him. Another leaps from behind but is quickly shot down by Kili’s arrow.

“Warg scouts!” Thorin grunts, pulling his sword from the carcass. “Which means an Orc pack is not far behind!”

Bilbo repeats, “Orc pack?”

Ori runs to the group declaring that the ponies have run off.

Radagast volunteers to draw the Orcs off as the company makes a break for it. As he breaks through the trees, the foul creatures give chase.

Gandalf, Bilbo, Abrâ and the company make their way across the plains, trying to outrun Radagast and the Orc pack. They are led around in circles and take out Orcs as they can. As the Orcs realise that they are following a dummy, they regroup, seek out Thorin and the group and surround them.

Gandalf is no-where to be seen. Dwalin concludes, “He’s abandoned us.” Only for the wizard to appear from behind a pile of rocks.

He signals to the company to make their way to what appears to be a cave. Thorin takes position on the top of the rock, encouraging everyone to slide down, while Gandalf counts as each enters the cave.

As soon as they are safe they hear the sound of a horn blowing. Gandalf grabs Abrâ by the arm and pulls her to him as a dead Orc follows them down into the cave. Thorin pulls an arrow from him and growls, “Elves!”

“Thorin doesn’t like Elves?” she questions the wizard.

Gandalf sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. “No. Not at all.”

“Are we not near Imladris?”

From deep within, Abrâ can hear him chuckle as he puts his index finger to his lips. “You sneaky old man,” she grins.

Thorin was not pleased to find where they were, and even less when they were surrounded by Lord Elrond’s scouting party. However, Abrâ was very curious about the elves found within. She had never had any contact with the Eldar.

It is difficult to distinguish between female and male dwarves and it took some time before her sex was discovered. When Elrond heard about the female in the company he insisted that she be given her own accommodation, which she kindly refused. Abrâ wanted desperately to stay with the company. She had grown fond of them and wanted to offer her services.


	5. Chapter 5

The day after they arrived Abrâ was summoned to Elrond’s residence. Thorin glowered as she was led away by a maiden elf.

She did not know what to expect and was surprised to find Gandalf waiting for her.

“Ahh, Umbakhul du IgrÌd e Abrâsh, thank you for joining us.”

Abrâ was enthralled by Elrond and flushed deeply as she bowed before him. “My Lord Elrond, it is my great pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Elrond rushed forward and took her by the hands, “It is _my_ pleasure. I understand you are from Ered Lithui, we do not see many dwarves from that part of Middle Earth.”

“No, my Lord, I don’t imagine you do,” she responded, as Elrond led her to a chair pulled up to a table. “We do not leave our homeland,” she looked pointedly at Gandalf, “unless we are summoned by Incànus.”

Elrond laughed, “Mithrandir, I think she has the mark of you.”

“Abrâ is wise beyond her years, my Lord Elrond. There is not much I can get away with around her.”

Abrâ could not help but smile; Incànus had been paying visits to her homeland for as long as she could remember. After 145 years, she figured she should know how to read him by now.

“Now, Abrâ,” Gandalf spoke gently, “we have asked you here to discuss something that has been on my mind.”

“Well, this sounds very serious, Incànus,” Abrâ flashed him a mock serious face. “Is this about me turning for home?”

Gandalf cleared his throat, “No, it is about your name.”

Abrâ paled. She did not like to talk about her name or the consequences of owning it. Elrond pushed a piece of paper across the table to Abrâ; on it was Gandalf’s hasty copy of the rune on her medicine pouch.

Abrâ pulled the paper closer to her and, using all of the fingers of her right hand, started turning it in a circle. She glanced from one to the other for many moments before she spoke.

“My name is my curse,” she removed the pouch from around her neck and placed it on the table.

 The rune was crude; from ancient days, the language rarely used in the 3rd age.

“The dwarves of Ered Lithui were cursed in long days past. Our names determine our traits. We have had the same names passed down from dam to dam; dwarrow to dwarrow. My mother and I share this name. If she should die before I have a pebble, its power will rest solely in me.”

“Sauron,” Elrond whispered.

“No, my Lord, not Sauron. Much more ancient.”

Elrond paled. To see an elf react in such a way frightened Gandalf.

Elrond looked upon the dam with sorrow in his face and tears in his eyes. “Morgoth…”

Gandalf gasped, “Morgoth?”

“Yes, Incànus. For age upon age we have been thus cursed.”

“But what I saw…I do not understand the nature of your curse.”

Abrâ smiled at the wizard, “It is ancient, Incànus. My name…” she sighed, “I do not know what it means however, what it does is evil.”

Gandalf turned to Elrond, “My Lord, do you know what this says?” He put his finger on the rune.

“Destroyer of Fear and Pain.”

“I cannot see how that would be a curse.”

Abrâ put her hand on Gandalf’s forearm. “When I touch people I take their fear and pain. They are left happy and healthy and I carry it.”

Gandalf stared at her, dumbfounded. “Kili…his tooth.” Abrâ nodded. “But you touch me all the time.” Gandalf looked around, “And you touch the Elves…”

“You and the Elves are very special,” she smiled at him and swung her gaze to include Elrond. “I can touch you and Lord Elrond; I can touch Ents and, unfortunately Orcs and Goblins.”

“No human, hobbit or dwarf not of her homeland,” Elrond continued.

“This explains so much,” Gandalf thought back to all the times Abrâ had asked people to put things down so that she could pick them up. Even the slightest brush of fingers might lead to agony for the dam.

“Please, Incànus, do not tell anyone. It is bad enough they think I am a freak, but since I am heading for home, there really is no need to confirm it.”

“My dear Abrâ, you are no freak! You are an unfortunate, descended from a long line of unfortunates-“ Gandalf stopped speaking as he noticed Abrâ’s mouth twitching.

“Unfortunate? Really?” Abrâ shook her head and chuckled. “I do not consider myself unfortunate. I have been blessed with a warm, resilient family. I have grown strong and can defend them.” She turned to Elrond, “My Lord, with your permission might I consult your wise men in order to learn more of this ‘condition’?”

“I will instruct our librarians to equip you with whatever you might need.”

Abrâ rose from her chair and bowed to the elf, “Thank you my Lord. If you will excuse me?”

“Of course.”

After Abrâ left Elrond and Gandalf regarded each other. “My Lord Elrond, I am concerned for those who are living in Ered Lithui. Radagast came to me with very dire tidings of a necromancer at Dol Guldur…”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Abrâ needed to clear her head. She felt bereft. The loss of pony was settling into the core of her being. With all of the goings-on getting to Rivendell, she had not had time to think about him. Now, he and her discussion were foremost in her mind.

She traversed the paths through the gardens, seeking a place of solace. The gardens of the elves were a wonder, with great blooms hanging off vines and secluded ponds with spectacular views. The waterfalls fell, the water like music as it crashed into the rocks below. And yet, she felt no peace.

Finally she came to rest on a lawn facing west. The setting sun was casting its red glow across the gardens; she could imagine lovers cuddled up in the bushes, enjoying the warmth on their skin.

Her mind turned to the company. She had become quite fond of the rascals. Kili and Fili were annoying, but also caring and funny and they reminded her of her brothers. Since the incident with Kili’s tooth many of the dwarves had a lot more respect for her; Dwalin still kept an eye on her but the way she had ordered the action taken had impressed him.

And Thorin…irascible, grim, determined; him with what appears to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. She didn’t want to leave. She did not want to go home. In her heart of hearts she wanted to stay with him – with the company, to aid him - them in their quest.

Abrâ sat thus until the sun was gone. The chill of the evening was starting to seep into her bones and yet, she had come to no conclusions, no solutions. She hauled herself to her feet and ambled back to their temporary home.

She was nearby, crossing the terrace when she heard a sound. ‘That cannot be…’ she thought. She turned left and raced to the stable yard. She came to a halt and could do nothing but smile. Pony neighed and tossed his head when he saw his mistress. Abrâ crossed to pony and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Oh pony. You sweet boy!” She looked him in the eye and put her forehead to his. “I was afraid you were lost forever!” Pony shook his mane and pawed the ground. “Of course not! I should know better. You will always find me.” She flung her arms around his neck once again and started to sob. “Oh pony! What will I do?”

At that moment someone nearby cleared their throat. Abrâ raised her head to find Thorin holding pony’s bridle. “He led them all here.”

Indeed, she looked around to see all 14 ponies and Incànus’ horse in the stable yard. Yet, her eyes swung around, almost immediately, to Thorin’s. His hypnotic blue eyes were locked on her face.

She felt her cheeks flush as he took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. “Abrâ,” he rumbled.

The dam leaned in toward the king, wanting to succumb to the warm feelings flooding through her. Thorin’s fingers were millimetres from her face when she abruptly rushed backward.

Thorin gasped, his hand hovering in the air, before the haughty mask slipped back over his face. He dropped the reins and turned away to join the other dwarves tending to the ponies.

Abrâ called after him, “Thorin! Wait!” He did not hesitate in his steps away from her as she whispered, “It’s not what you think…”

***

The next evening Thorin, Gandalf and Bilbo met with Elrond to discover the secrets of the map of Erebor.

_Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole_

Elrond was taken by the image of Smaug which graced the map. There was something about his form that triggered a distant memory. He rushed to the library and hunted out a very old tome. He read through it frantically, flipping pages quickly until finally he came to the reference he sought.

Thror’s map depicted the beast as having a very long torso and tail. Morgoth had created the fire-drakes in the first age, and it was said that Smaug had survived the eradication of the species in the second age.

However, no-one had heard or seen of any drake until he laid waste to the Lonely Mountain.

Elrond read the passage:

_Sauron, having lost the Uruloki, sought creatures far and wide. In the North Mountains dwelled a lizard, as fearsome looking as the spawn of Melkor. These lizards, Sauron cursed to ever seek out heat, drawn to the one-ring, they crave gold above all. In his vanity, his lust to be as great as Melkor, Sauron attempted to recreate his monster. The lizards became colossus, however they did not heed their master. They flew to the four-corners of Middle Earth in search of the ring, and power of their own._

The high elf stood staring at the book for a long time, working through the information. He did not know where the one ring was, nobody did. However, he thought that Abrâ, being cursed by Morgoth might have an advantage when the dwarves confronted Smaug. He immediately sought out Gandalf.

“Mithrandir, you must convince Thorin to take Abrâ with him to Erebor.”

“My Lord Elrond, I do not think that will be possible. Thorin told me as much.”

Elrond hardened his face and stiffened his body, he spoke with authority, “Thorin must take Abrâ!” He then explained what he had found in the library.

Gandalf considered the information and assured Elrond that he would find a way to send Abrâ with them.

 


	7. Chapter 7

That night Abrâ sat off on her own while the company ate. As hard as she tried, her gaze would not stop wandering to Thorin. Throughout her whole life, she had never felt so strongly the horror of the curse laid upon her people. Right at this moment, she wanted to stride over to the king, haul him to his feet and kiss him soundly.

Unbeknownst to her, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Bilbo strolled past her only to step back in surprise. He crouched in front of her and reached toward her. Abrâ stood and ran, shouting, “No! Don’t touch me! Never touch me!”

She ran to the stable, and straight to pony’s stall. She sobbed into his neck and clenched and unclenched her fingers into his mane. She heard a sound behind her and mumbled, “Go away Bilbo. Please leave me…I’m sorry, but I need to be alone.”

Thorin had seen Abrâ’s reaction to Bilbo and had immediately followed after her, “I’m not Bilbo.” His deep rumble was soothing to her ears, but still she shied back. “Abrâ, im-,” he was about to say Imrilamê but did not want to spook her further. “Abrâ, no one here is going to hurt you.”

“Go away! You do not want me here,” she hiccoughed. “You want me to go home…I tell you I can help, but you won’t let me.”

Thorin took a step toward her and she stepped back to pony’s withers. “Stop! You can’t touch me Thorin,” she wailed. She took a deep breath, “Not unless you wish to cause me great harm.”

Thorin wrinkled his brow in confusion before it softened, “Abrâ, I never wish to cause you any harm.”

She looked up at him, wetness remaining on her cheeks. She drew herself to full height and raised her chin. She swallowed before saying, “I have something I need to confess, Thorin.”

The dwarf stiffened, was she a spy? Was she plotting something? Who was she?

“Please, Thorin, can we meet with the others?”

“You can tell me. I will inform them if they need to know,” he said with a hard edge to his voice.

“It will have no effect on the quest, Thorin. I just need to share this information.” She shrugged.

Thorin considered her for a few moments before shrugging himself and turning away. “Come, tell us.”

As they walked side-by-side toward the others Thorin felt a deep longing to take her hand. He saw her as small and dainty, despite her larger than normal female stature; he wanted to protect her from any and all harm.

All eyes were upon them as they entered into the circle of firelight. Most were simply curious, however Balin saw something more in his king. He smiled to himself.

Thorin addressed the company, “Abrâ seems to think that she has something to confess to us.” The dwarves started whispering amongst themselves. Thorin shouted, “Alright, settle down!” He motioned Abrâ into his position as he encouraged her, “Just tell us what you need to say.”

Abrâ stood looking at 14 sets of eyes all trained upon her face. She took a deep breath and started, “I am cursed.” An audible gasp could be heard throughout the company. “All of my people are cursed. Our names have been handed down throughout the ages, one to another, and each has a meaning. My father cannot leave our mountains, if he does he will kill whomever he looks at.”

The dwarves sat enthralled by her words. They were all dumbstruck to some extent.

Abrâ looked up as Elrond and Gandalf stepped onto the terrace. Gandalf nodded for her to continue, “My name is Umbakhul du IgrÌd e Abrâsh.”

The dwarves, once again, whispered amongst themselves; Bilbo asked, “And what does that mean?”

Thorin scowled, his face darkening. Khuzdul was an ancient, secret language not often shared with outsiders. Abrâ glanced at Thorin and arched a brow. He rolled his eyes and nodded.

She smiled at Bilbo and explained, “It means Destroyer of Pain and Fear.”

“That doesn’t sound like a curse,” he reasoned.

“It is not a curse to those I touch. I carry the curse. If I touch anyone who is not of my people, an elf or an Istar I take on all of their physical pain or mental fears.”

Bombur sat up, “That is why you will not take a bowl from me!” He smiled and perked up, “I was afraid I had offended you.”

Abrâ chuckled, “No Master Bombur, are you even capable of offending anyone?”

Bofur nudged Bombur in the ribs and laughed, “Ask his wife!”

Fili commented, “Well, we will just have to be careful and not touch you, Abrâ.” Kili nodded vigorously next to him.

Abrâ smiled sadly, “I appreciate it Fili,” she glanced at Thorin, “but, if you recall, this is where I turn off for home.” She watched regret flit across Thorin’s face.

“Excuse me, Abrâ,” Gandalf called from behind the dwarves. They all turned and watched him stand beside Abrâ. “In actuality, Lord Elrond has found some information that we think means you should travel to Erebor with the company.” He went on to explain Elrond’s findings.

At first Thorin scowled, he had originally wanted her to go home because he thought she’d be a nuisance, but now he just wanted to keep her safe. As Gandalf continued, he shook his head, a feeling something akin to despair filling him.

***

The dwarves and Bilbo snuck away from Rivendell, leaving the ponies behind in safety. They sought shelter from the rain in a cave, only to find themselves in Goblintown. As Bilbo and the dwarves fought and ran from the goblins, Abrâ found herself in a battle of wits with a strange creature. She riddled her way out of being eaten by Gollum, found a ring and followed the dwarves as they ran out the east side of the Misty Mountains.

The company finds themselves trapped between the mountain and the cliff only to fight Azog’s forces and be carried off by the Eagles.

***

Abrâ gazed up at the big man. Beorn regarded her with scorn, he was not happy about having 14 dwarves in his home.

“Pardon me, Master Beorn, but might I be permitted to touch you?”

Thorin, who had been leaning against a post, straightened and appealed to her, “Abrâ, do you think that is wise?”

She smiled at Thorin affectionately and shrugged, “I want to find out who I can and cannot touch.”

Beorn raised his bushy brows at her, “You are not of Erebor?”

“No, I come from Ered Lithui.”

“You are of the cursed,” Beorn stated. He shook his head, “Do not touch me.”

“You know of us?”

“Yes, many ages ago…Azog had one of your people in his menagerie. He thought it was amusing to make the dwarf touch people – it made the poor man vomit.”

Ori shyly asked, “Does everyone know what their curse is?”

Dori smacked his brother and grumbled, “Don’t bother the lass.”

“Oh, it is no problem Master Dori.” She turned to Ori, “There are some who do not. Our people do not interact with many others of Middle Earth, so there are some who have not strayed from Ered Lithui for many generations.”

“So, why do you not stay?” Dori shot his brother another dirty look.

Abrâ blushed and admitted, “I simply can’t keep still. I am very curious and insisted on venturing forth. Luckily, or unlucky, as some may say, my mother’s family has always been adventurous so I have always known what my curse is.”

Abrâ could feel Thorin’s eyes boring into the back of her. He regarded her fondly; meanwhile Kili nudged his brother in the ribs and pointed to Thorin.

“Uncle has got it bad!” he whispered.

Fili replied, “It is too bad. She would be good for him!”

Kili punched his brother in the arm and griped, “You had to remind me, didn’t you? You couldn’t just let me live in a happy moment, could you?”

Fili shrugged, “I’m just being realistic.”

Kili slunk away, pouting, “Realistic! I’m looking at romance and all he can do is talk realism…”

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

As they trudged through the humid heat of MIrkwood Abrâ was trying to remain focused. She did not want to stumble against anyone. Thorin was trying to lead them, but to no avail. Dwarves were wandering everywhere.

Abrâ stood at the bottom of the tree watching Bilbo climb to the top to get his bearings. She shouted up to him, “Bilbo, what do you see?” but got no response. She looked around and saw no-one. “Bilbo! Come down!” she called again, to no avail.

She was startled by the sound of something coming. Something big! She scrabbled up a tree, using her sword to slash through what appeared to be spider webs. They were the largest webs she had ever seen.

Suddenly she saw a large creature, a giant spider, hauling something wrapped in webbing up a nearby tree. The spider laid the package down and Abrâ was surprised to see a short blade pierce through the webbing and straight into the spider. ‘Bilbo! That’s Bilbo’s sword,’ she thought.

She crawled carefully across the branches to get to Bilbo. “I thought I had lost you!” she jabbered. “Oh Bilbo, thank goodness you are alright!” She hovered, feeling useless, as Bilbo escaped from the webs and scrabbled to his feet.

From there, they saw the company. All 13 of them dangling from limbs, encased in spider webs!

Abrâ turned to Bilbo and ushered him onto another branch behind the trunk of the tree. “Stay here!” she ordered. She looked back at the spiders and was trying to figure out how she would get in there when Bilbo suggested he throw something to get their attention focused elsewhere. As he tossed a stick, she slipped the ring on her finger and made her way across the branches.

She hissed at Bilbo from across the way, “Bilbo, climb down and help them out!”

Bilbo looked around, confused before he shimmied down the tree. Bodies started lowering down around him and he went to work cutting the dwarves free. Abrâ removed the ring and jumped down from the tree. The spiders did not stay away long, before they knew it they were surrounded.

Thorin took charge of the company and directed his fighters. “Abrâ, you stay there!” he shouted.

“Not bloody likely,” she shouted back, before she charged at a spider. She ran her blade into the spider’s head and was immediately covered in slime. She gagged and saw a spider heading for Fili. A knife was pulled from her boot and sailed through the air, plunging deep in its side. Fili turned and finished the beast off with a knife to the head. He, too, was promptly covered in the same slime.

The dwarves ran through the forest only to come face to face with more spiders. As they took their stances Thorin saw what looked like an elf swing down the web and stab the spider in its belly. The elf slid across the ground and came to a halt with his an arrow notched, pointing straight at Thorin. Before they knew what was happening, they were surrounded.

Abrâ was separate from the company, she slipped the ring back on and observed. She followed them as they made their way to the elven kingdom and slipped in behind them.

She spent 2 days searching for a way to break the dwarves free. Finally, on the third night, the elves were celebrating the Feast of Starlight. Many casks of wine had been brought from Laketown. Abrâ found them in the basement, arrayed on a device designed to plunge them into the river in order to make their way back, empty.

Once the guards were drunk on Thranduil’s best wine, she stole the keys to the cells and made her way to them. The dwarves were excited to see her and started to shout with glee, when she had to shush them. When they continued to be loud she turned to Thorin and gestured. He responded with a low, but commanding, “Be quiet!”

She ushered them to the basement, many protesting going down instead of up and hurried them into the barrels. She pulled the lever to drop the floor and quickly jumped into the closest barrel, half in and half out.

They made their way quickly down the river, until Abrâ realised that they were trapped, yet again. A large metal gate barred the way further downstream.

Orc arrows started flying through the air, killing elves. Kili jumped out of his barrel to open the gate, only to be pierced in the leg by one of the poisonous arrows. They continued down the rushing river using whatever was at hand to fight off the orcs before they lost the current.

The company hitched a ride into Laketown on Bard’s barge where Thorin pledged to share the wealth of the mountain with the people of the town.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The dwarves and Bilbo searched near and far, their gazes turned upward from the base of the Lonely Mountain, to find the hidden entrance. Abrâ was searching with Bofur when they heard Bilbo calling that he had found it.

With Thorin in the lead they climbed up the steep staircase hidden within the gigantic dwarves carved deep in the rock. Abrâ decided to wait until the others had gotten to the top; the steps were so steep she feared someone might stumble and fall on her.

When she reached the top Dwalin, Bifur and Gloin, axes in hand, were hammering away at the rock face. Tears came to her eyes as the light faded; so much hope lost.

Thorin could not believe that they had travelled so far, only to miss their opportunity. “No!” he exclaimed. “The last light of Durin’s day,” his voice broke, “will shine upon the keyhole.” He held out the map in supplication, “That’s what it says.” He looked around in desperation, “What did we miss?” He stepped toward Balin, “What did we miss? Balin…”

The white haired dwarf shook his head, “We’ve lost the light. There’s no more to be done. We had but one chance.” The dwarves, some in tears, turned away from the invisible door. “Come away lads,” Balin muttered, “it’s over.”

As the dwarves trudged toward the staircase, Bilbo tried to halt their descent. He looked at Thorin and asked, “Where are they going? You can’t give up now,” he shouted.

Dejected, Thorin dropped the key on the ground. As he turned and started walking away Abrâ called to him, “Thorin! You can’t give up.” She retrieved the key, thinking even if they didn’t make it in, they could try again next Durin’s Day.

Thorin continued to the staircase and, as Bilbo continued to appeal to him to not give up, he planted the map squarely in Bilbo’s chest. He had given up all hope.

Abrâ and Bilbo remained behind, unwilling to give up. They had come a long way and were not going to give up so easily. They both stood in front of the imposing rock-face and repeated the instructions.

“When the thrush knocks…Bilbo, there has been no thrush, has there?”

He shook his head no and continued, “and the last light of Durin’s Day will shine…”

They continued to ponder the instructions as the clouds cleared in the sky. Abrâ watched as the moon started to shine down on them. Something about that made her think hard.

They turned to each other and said, “The moonlight!”

“The moonlight is the last light of Durin’s Day!” Bilbo exclaimed.

From behind them they heard the sound of a thrush trying to break open a nut by knocking it against the rock.

“The thrush!” Abrâ laughed as she watched the bird in action.

“The keyhole!” Bilbo shouted. “The last light of Durin’s Day is the moonlight!” He ran to the top of the staircase and shouted down, “Come back! Come Back! It’s the light of the moon! The last moon of autumn!”

Bilbo started to look for the key, “It was right here. Where is the key?”

He was not paying attention and was stumbling around erratically when he tripped over a rock and smashed, headlong, into Abrâ. Almost instantly, she dropped to the ground, her whole body aching. But it was her mind! The thoughts and feelings whirring around in her head were confusing and painful!

She felt confusion and indecision. She felt guilt and an overwhelming sense of fear.

Bilbo got to his feet. He was horrified at what he had done but, at the same time, felt more peace in his soul than he had for months. “Abrâ! Oh, Abrâ, I am so sorry!” He hovered over the dam and would not stop talking, “Are you hurting? Should I call for Oin?”

“No Bilbo!” Abrâ managed to get to her feet. She looked at the hobbit, with sympathy. “I am sorry you are not sure of yourself, Master Bilbo. And what are you afraid of?”

Bilbo looked at her, shocked. “You know what I am feeling?”

“Yes, Bilbo. Remember my name means Destroyer of Pain and Fear?”

Bilbo wanted to wrap his arms around the dam and give her comfort. In fact, he shuffled forward with his arms out wide, before he stepped back and dropped them to his sides. “I guess a hug would not be a good idea?”

“No,” she smiled. “Not a very good one, at least.”

Thorin appeared at the top of the staircase and Abrâ put the key down on the ground for him to pick up. He smiled at her and said, “Thank you for picking this up.”

Abrâ shrugged, “I didn’t want it to get away.”

The king made his way to the door, where the moonlight shone directly on the keyhole, and turned the key. There was a distinct clicking sound as the lock released and then Thorin placed both hands against the door and pushed.

The dwarves all stood, transfixed, as the door swung in. Thorin stepped to the threshold and marveled, “Erebor.”

Balin stepped behind him and, with tears in his eyes and a quake in his voice, said, “Thorin.”

Thorin turned to him and placed his hand on the older dwarfs shoulder and gave him a squeeze. He then turned back to the doorway and stepped across the threshold. With awe he said, “I know these walls; these halls, this stone…” He walked further into the tunnel and continued, “You remember it Balin; chambers filled with golden light.”

Balin made his way into the tunnel, “I remember.”

One by one the dwarves entered the mountain. Nori turned and noticed the runes carved into the rock over the doorway.

Gloin read, “Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin’s Folk. May the heart of the mountain unite all dwarves in defense of this home.”

Balin indicated to Bilbo that carved under the quote was the throne of Erebor and, above it, the Arkenstone. The reason for him to be there.

“That is what you seek, Master Burglar. A large white stone, that shines with the light of a thousand stars.”

Thorin called to Bilbo quietly, “Bilbo, come here.” He led the Hobbit further into the tunnel and, from high above, showed him the treasure horde of Thrain.

Bilbo was overwhelmed by the enormity of the chamber; and the mounds upon mounds of gold, silver and precious gems. His eyes roamed from one end to the other, his mouth working silently. He turned, wide-eyed, to Thorin and exclaimed, “I have to find that stone…” he pointed at the horde, “in there? With a dragon?”

Thorin had confidence in the hobbit, “I have no doubt of you.”

Bilbo puffed air and rolled his eyes, “Yesssh,” he drawled.

The 2 made their way back to the doorway, where Abrâ was waiting, pacing back and forth. When they came out of the door, she signaled Thorin over to her. “Thorin, are you really going to send Bilbo in there to certain death?”

“My darling Abrâ,” Thorin shook his head. “Nothing is certain.”

‘Did he just call me darling?” A warmth spread through Abrâ, ‘He couldn’t possibly…we can’t even touch each other.’

To the dwarf she said, “He could not possibly find it in there.”

“Give him a chance, Abrâ. You might be surprised.”

And, indeed and unbeknownst to anyone, he did find the Arkenstone. Bilbo proved to be very adept at smooth-talking dragons.

Smaug however, had become tired of dealing with the little people and stalked Bilbo to the stairs leading up into Erebor. The dwarves of the company stormed into the treasure room determined to save their hobbit, but came to a studdering halt before the beast. None of them, save Thorin and Balin, had ever seen it this close before.

The dwarves jumped from a palisade and the dragon gave chase. They ran to the hallowed halls of the kingdom with Smaug close behind. The air was chill and made ghostly sounds in the empty chambers, making the dwarves jump.

They made their way to the enormous furnaces, Thorin determined to fire them up. Abrâ shivered as she heard the echo of the beast speaking, “Flee! Run for your lives. There is nowhere to escape.” Smaug made his slithery way down to the ground in front of them.

As he stalked toward them Abrâ felt her insides churn, she became overcome with nausea. It felt like voices were inhabiting her brain; hissing, incessant words that she could not understand. She was transfixed in place, all around her the dwarves were trying to get her to move; they were stymied by the curse, their frustration becoming evident.

Smaug turned his head to the dam, “Well, well. What have we here?”

Thorin roared, “Stay away from her, slug!”

“Oh ho-ho, you care for the girl?” The beast grinned, showing his razor sharp teeth, “All the better.”

Abrâ, her eyes closed, the voices still swirling, reached into her pocket and removed the ring.

Smaug halted and sniffed the air. “What have you there, little girl?” He angled his face closer to Abrâ, his head tilting left and right. “What is it?” he yelled, as he swung his head high. “A remnant of Mordor! Tainted, as you…as I…by the hand of Sauron!”

The dwarves watched, amazed, as Abrâ slipped the ring on her finger and looked around in confusion when she disappeared. In the unnatural haze under the spell of the ring, she saw the reality of the lizard. Still massive in size, its skin was not as dark, his eyes not as fierce.

The company moved as far away from the beast as they could. The beast reared, he screamed a scream of evil proportions; the sound reverberated around the mountain. The rock shook, the sounds of the screams penetrated everything.

Abrâ launched herself at the monster, climbing his height; hand over hand with her feet getting purchase wherever they could.

The dwarves cowered, even Oin had his hands held over his ears; the excruciating noise seemed to go on forever.

Abrâ wrapped her arms around Smaug’s neck. She was shaken from side to side, desperately trying to keep a hold of the scales.

Smaug’s screeches hit a crescendo when Abrâ laid the ring against his neck. His scales heated and still, Abrâ held on. The caverns were filled with smoke and the smell of burning.

***

 


	10. Chapter 10

Thorin coughed as thick smoke billowed all around. He tried to call out to Abrâ, but each time he took a breath he coughed more. He could hear his companions choking around him, but could not yet see anyone.

Finally, he managed to squeak out, “Abrâ! Where are you?”

He received no answer.

Fear gripped him as he struggled forward, or rather, the direction he thought was forward. “Abrâ!” he cried, his voice still hoarse. He could hear the others calling for her.

As the smoke started to clear Thorin kept an eye open for both Abrâ and the dragon. He could see neither. “Look for her!” he shouted at the company. But he didn’t have to. Bilbo and the dwarves had all come to care deeply for the dam, thus they were scrambling over rocks looking for her.

Ori found her. “Over here,” he shouted. “She looks really bad!”

Dwalin came barreling toward Abrâ as she lay prone on the floor. Oin was jogging toward him and called out, “Don’t – gasp – touch – gasp – her, it – gasp – will – only hurt her – gasp – more.”

Dwalin hovered over the woman wringing his hands. “She really doesn’t look good.” He saw Thorin coming toward them and turned, placing his hands on his shoulders, “I don’t think you should see, Thorin.”

“Let me pass,” he growled, putting all of his strength into trying to move Dwalin. They squared off against each other. Fury burned in Thorin’s eyes, “I said let me pass.”

Dwalin stood his ground.

“Dwalin-“ Thorin’s face collapsed into one of absolute fear and heartbreak. “Please, I must get passed.”

Dwalin could not bear to see his king thusly; so, despite thinking it not a good idea, let him pass.

Thorin stumbled over to where Abrâ lay. He stood over her and could not believe what he saw. She lay on her back, blackened. Her breeches and tunic had been burnt almost off. Her hair was singed, her beard gone; half of her face was burned, as were her arms and hands.

Thorin wanted to do nothing else but hold her in his arms. He should have told her how he felt, although he thought she might know. But thinking something and knowing something are two very different things. Mahal! Why hadn’t he confessed? Stubborn, foolish, scared…all those and more! He had been worried about what others would think of his choice for a Queen. Although, she couldn’t be his Queen, could she? That damned curse!

Thorin started to pace, then he settled down on his haunches and watched Oin.

Oin sent Dori and Ori off to get some blankets, while he sent Bofur, Bifur and Nori for buckets of water. He shrugged, “Until Gandalf gets here all we can do is try to ease her pain with damp blankets. None of us can touch her. I wouldn’t want to think how much additional pain she would be in.” He leaned in close over the girl, “As it is, I think she is in a coma.” He looked up at Thorin, “She has no idea what is happening.”

Bilbo joined the group. Kili glanced at him and said, “What’s that?” as he pointed at Bilbo’s hand.

“It is a lizard,” he declared, imagining Kili to be slightly nutty for not knowing a lizard when he saw one. “And Abrâ’s ring.”

All of the dwarf eyes turned to him. “What? I found this lizard wrapped around the ring over there.” He pointed to a spot not too far away.

Kili looked closely at the lizard, he elbowed Fili and said, “Do you think that might be Smaug?”

At these words the lizard’s spiny scales stiffened and it hissed at Kili.

“Hahahaha!” Fili laughed, “What’s the matter, Smaug? Too small to do anything now, aren’t ya?”

“Leave the creature alone,” Thorin growled. “As a matter of fact, how about you all just get going? Leave us here to tend to Abrâ.”

Kili frowned, “But Uncle, we all care.”

Thorin glared at the young dwarrow, but his face softened and he rose to his feet. He approached the boy and placed his forehead against Kili’s. “I know, Kee.” He wrapped his hand around his neck and continued, “I think quiet and rest would be best for our Abrâ. Hmmm?” Kili nodded. “How about you and the others get the kitchens cleaned up and prepare some food, eh?”

“Yes Uncle,” Kili replied. He was disappointed to be sent away, he was very concerned for his friend; but he understood. Too many people would interrupt her rest.

It wasn’t long before Ori and Dori returned with all of the blankets they could find. Bofur, Bifur and Nori came back soon after, each carrying two buckets of water.

“Bofur, please dunk a blanket in the water.” Bofur did as he was told. “Now you and another take it from the bucket and wring it out till it is only damp. Then four of you take a corner and, very gently…be sure not to touch her, lay the blanket over her.”

Thorin moved quickly to help Bofur with the blanket.

“Ori, please take this blanket,” Oin handed a smaller blanket to the young dwarrow, “and cut it into small pieces that will fit over the burn to her face.”

Ori nodded and pulled out his knife. He sat on the floor and, tongue sticking out in concentration, went about his task.

Bofur, Bifur, Nori and Thorin each took a corner of the blanket and moved to a place beside Abra. “One, two, three,” Thorin counted as they laid the blanket in unison. Steam rose from the damp fabric, but Abrâ did not even twitch when the cloth made contact with her heated skin.

Thorin took one of the pieces that Ori had already cut and dunked it in some water. He wrung it out and, with great care, holding the piece by two corners laid it over Abrâ's reddened face, ensuring she could breathe. Under his breath he whispered, “Mahal, please let her live.”

He and Oin remained by her side for hours, changing the blankets and watching over her. Occasionally, someone would come to relieve Oin, but Thorin refused to leave.

‘How can she leave me when I’ve only just found her,’ the thought kept swirling through his mind. He hoped against hope that Gandalf would return with the secret to freeing her from this curse. For her sake? Or for his? If he was honest, he would admit that it was for his. She had lived her whole life like this, for her it was normal. For him it was unnatural and evil; he felt himself cursed, he'd lost his homeland, his grandfather, father, brother…and now that he had found love, was he to lose her also?

 


	11. Chapter 11

Abrâ had been lying on the ground where she fell for two days. Thorin had been sleeping on his furs and felt the cold of the ground in his bones. He was frantic with worry for his One to be laying right against the cold stone.

Over the next few days word spread that the dwarves had successfully taken back Erebor. Representatives from Laketown arrived not long after; luckily with them came Gandalf.

As soon as Thorin heard that the wizard had arrived he made to find him, however before he had risen from Abrâ's side Balin led him into the hall.

Gandalf took one look at the girl and rushed to her side. He crouched over her and whispered some words before sitting back on his heels. He turned to Oin and asked, “What have you done?”

“We daren't do anything. We have kept her covered with damp blankets to wick away the heat...” Oin looked at Gandalf, he had trouble holding back his emotions. “We can't touch her!”

“No, Oin,” Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have done the right thing.” He turned to Thorin, “I need you to get a stretcher ready.”

“Stay here Thorin,” Kili said. “I'll get one.”

Thorin grinned in thanks.

Gandalf lifted the corner of the blanket covering Abrâ and heaved a sigh. “Oh, my dear girl.” The burns had lost some of their redness, however they were blistered and oozing. “Oin, I need honey, aloe if you have it, athelas, and the bark of an elm tree. Also, collect all of the dried cedar you can.” He grabbed Fili's arm as he went by, “Fili, my lad, get a roaring fire started in a **clean** room; make sure the bedding is clean and dry. I'll need plenty of blankets and hang a pot of water over the fire.”  Fili nodded and set off on his way.

Kili returned with the stretcher. He, Bofur, Bifur and Dwalin were at each of the four corners, ready to carry it. Gandalf, whispering under his breath, raised Abrâ from the ground and placed her on the stretcher. Slowly and carefully the dwarves made their way to the room Fili had prepared.  Gandalf performed the same procedure to get Abrâ into the bed and then cleared the room of all but Oin and Thorin.

Gandalf got the water to a rolling boil and poured in the honey, athelas and the bark. He instructed Thorin to stir it. In a bowl he put in a measure of cedar and set it alight.

He made his way to the bed and peeled back the blanket. He shook his head from side to side as he removed what remained of her clothing; he mumbled as he worked. "Oin," he called. "Have someone fetch some ice."

When Oin stuck his head out the door he found the whole company waiting anxiously. "Oy! Don't you all be hanging around here, we've lots of work to do." He waved his hand in their direction, "I need some of you to go deep into the mountain and fetch back some ice."

Dwalin pointed at Bifur, Kili and Fili and instructed them to follow him. Meanwhile, the members of the company continued their pacing.

Thorin removed the brew from the fire and set the pot into a big bowl in preparation for the ice to cool it down. He then made his way to the bedside. He felt no embarrassment seeing Abrâ naked as she was, he half-grinned remembering her bravado at the creek. He sat on a chair beside her head, his heart was breaking with how badly he wanted to caress her, soothe her. He whispered to her, "Abrâ, my One. I hope you can hear me.  Incànus is here, he will help," he glanced up at Gandalf as he said this. Gandalf gave him a half-smile and nodded softly.

An hour later Gandalf had Abrâ coated in his medicine and wrapped in clean linens. Her temperature was closer to normal and she seemed to be resting comfortably.

***

It was many days before Abrâ started to come around. Thorin stayed by her side through it all; only leaving to eat and get a few hours of sleep. When he was away from her bedside he insisted that either Fili or Kili stay with her.

In that time the mountain was filling with people. A party, led by Dain's right hand, Arfindel, arrived with supplies for the company; along with people who were interested in being a part of getting Erebor back to its former splendor.

Thorin's insistence on being at Abrâ's side was resulting in some discontent from the party from the Iron HIlls. As king he should be making himself available. Some lowly dwarf from Ered Lithui should not have his attention.

Fili did his best to act in his uncle's stead; Balin was ever at his side to advise but it was not enough for Arfindel.

The last straw on Thorin's (the whole company's really) nerves was the appearance of Thranduil. The elven lord was insistent on getting recompense for the loss of the jewels of Lasgalen.

Bilbo and the company, meanwhile, had been busy sorting through the horde Smaug had guarded. In it was found the Raven Crown and the elven jewels. Thorin was loathe to return the white jewels to Thranduil; he deemed them payment for being locked in the cells of Mirkwood.

Arfindel met secretly with Thranduil and agreed to return the jewels.

Thorin was in his usual place beside Abrâ when Fili came in search of guidance; Balin could advise, but in this he needed to be guided by his king. Fili fretted trying to get his uncle to leave with him, but Thorin would have none of it.

"Fili, just tell me what has happened."

"Arfindel has arranged to give the Jewels of Lasgalen to Thranduil."

Before Fili got all the words out Thorin's wrath was heard throughout the mountain. And in the room.

A soft moan rose from the bed, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Thorin rushed back to the bed and had to force himself not to take hold of Abrâ's hands. He was on his knees beside the bed, whispering, "Abrâ. Abrâ, Gayadê, take it slow. Don't overdo it."

She blinked slowly at him and smiled, only to cringe in pain. The left side of her face was covered in dark scars and peeling skin. "Thorin, please keep it down. For some reason my head hurts."

"Abrâ, do you remember what happened to you?"

She frowned and tried to remember, she recollected...her eyes growing wide. "Did I jump on the dragon?"

Thorin chuckled, "Yes, you are full of imhaznâg. You should not have done it!"

"So, all this is my own pain?"

"Yes, amrâlimê. We have not touched you. Gandalf has been tending to you."

"Dear Incànus," she replied sleepily.

"Alright, you go back to sleep." He smiled at her, "I promise to make no more noise."

Abrâ nodded and slipped back into sleep.

Thorin rose from the floor, clapped a hand on Fili's shoulder and growled, "Stay here."

Fili's eyebrows rose into his hairline. While he wanted to see what the king would do to Arfindel, he was also glad to be far from it. He reckoned he would hear Thorin from here.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gayadê – my joy  
> Imhaznâg - courage


	12. Chapter 12

Thorin did not confront Arfindel. Instead he sought out Thranduil. He searched in all the probable places for the Elven King, but was not successful. He decided to consult with Balin, but could not find him.

"Where in Mahal's name is everyone?" he grumbled as he stalked the halls.

He came across Dwalin, who informed him that Balin had taken Thranduil to the library.

"What is going on? That perfumed elven oathbreaker has wrapped Arfindel around his pinkie finger; has he addled Balin's brains as well?" Thorin was royally pissed off. "Is he sharing our secrets with him?"

He made for the library at break-neck speed, determined to have the beardless wonder out on his ass.

***

Abrâ groaned and opened her eyes again. She was surprised to find Fili gazing down at her anxiously. "Fili!" she gasped. "What is the matter?"

"You were moaning something fierce, Abrâ. Are you in a great deal of pain?"

Abrâ did not want anyone to worry over her injuries, so said, "No Fili. It isn't all that bad, just uncomfortable." Meanwhile, she felt like her skin was too tight for her body, she wanted to scratch everywhere and there were spots that felt like they were on fire.

Oin made his way to the bed and instructed Fili to fetch Gandalf.

He puttered about the room, preparing her ointment and getting fresh linens ready. As he did he muttered, "Tis not right that I have to wait for Gandalf to do everything. I am the healer, I should be the one caring for her. Confounded wizard!" Oin thought he was being quiet but without his ear-horn he did not realise how loud he was.

Abrâ lay in the bed listening to Oin. Her heart sank hearing about the burden she was on the folks in the mountain. She was keeping Thorin from important kingly duties, Fili & Kili were being kept from their interests watching over her, and Gandalf, he had no rest from her.

The wizard entered the chamber and, with a cheerful chuckle, exclaimed, "Ahh, Abrâ, my dear! It is so good to see you awake. You gave us all quite the scare." Gandalf leaned over the bed and tried to make eye contact with the patient. "Abrâ?"

She refused to look him in the eye, instead keeping her head turned to the wall. Gandalf frowned as a tear pooled before falling from her eye. "Abrâ," he intoned. "What is wrong? Look at me." When Abrâ refused he peeled back her bedding and set to work changing her dressings.

Abrâ felt humiliated. Here was Incànus looking at her. Naked! She lay there trying not to acknowledge what was happening. She hissed in a breath and gasped in pain as he removed the dressings. It felt like her skin was being peeled from her bones; the tender skin on her inner thighs, across her belly and on her arms was raw and bleeding. As hard as she tried, she could not control the tears streaming down her face.

When Gandalf had finished with her body he whispered, "Abrâ, I need you to look at me." She shook her head. "I need to change the dressing on your face."

 Her chest heaved and a sob broke through, however she turned toward her friend and let him work on her face. She was surprised by how much bandaging there was; it started to the left of her mouth, from her jaw and up along her face into her hair. She would no longer be able to grow her beard. Another wave of humiliation rolled through her. She was no longer a proper dwarf. She was a monster. She would be an outcast. Her people would no longer accept her!

"Gandalf! Gandalf, please. I need to get up!" Abrâ begged. "I need to see it!"

Gandalf stood over her and shook his head, "No, I do not think that wise." He turned to Oin, "Please have someone fetch Miss Abrâ some broth."

 A few minutes later Kili entered with a tray. Gandalf propped Abrâ up on some pillows and went about feeding her. As he did so he explained, "Abrâ, it is going to take a number of weeks before you are well enough to get out of bed, let alone go traipsing around the mountain. Let us take care of you and get you back to your old self."

As he continued to speak Abrâ's mind was wheeling with questions. What had happened to the dragon? How long had she been out? Where was her ring?

She interrupted the wizard with her questions.

"Well," Gandalf chuckled, "the dragon is in a cage. Bilbo has it." Gandalf chuckled, removed his hat and scratched his head. "The villain will not give up the ring; if anyone tries to take it away he bites them. As for how long you have been out...you were 2 days on the ground and you have been in here for a week."

"A week?" She struggled to get up, "Really Incànus, I must get up. There is so much to be done!"

Gandalf stood to his full height and proclaimed, "Umbakhul du IgrÌd e Abrâsh, I forbid you to get out of this bed!"

Abrâ burst into fresh tears.

Gandalf gathered her gently into his arms and soothed her. "Hush now. You must allow yourself to heal, you have tremendous injuries." He rocked her for many minutes until she fell asleep against him.

"Kili? Where is your uncle?"

Kili smirked, "He is in the library; giving Thranduil," he made a face, "a stern talking to."

"Oh no," groaned Gandalf. "I'd better go save him."

KIli chuckled as the wizard rushed from the room.

***

Long before he got to the library Gandalf could hear Thorin's shouts.

"You lack all honour! You skulk around my mountain and engage in negotiations with," Thorin's face twisted, "with someone who is not of my kin!"

 "Oh, but he assured me he was acting on your behalf," Thranduil countered. "I thought one dwarf was as good as another."

Thorin felt like his head was going to explode! The unmitigated gall of this preening, pampered wood sprite!

"Go!" Thorin stood close to the elf, "Get out of my mountain!"

Thranduil glared down at the king before tossing his hair, turning on his heel and leaving the room, his entourage behind him.

Thorin stomped around the room, trying to cool off. He had to tread more carefully with Arfindel. As a representative of his cousin Dain, Thorin had to get his point across without alienating the dwarves of the Iron Hills.


	13. Chapter 13

"Balin," Thorin was consulting with his clerk before speaking with Arfindel. "How am I to get my point across without creating an incident?"

Balin chuckled and shook his head, "I am not sure that you are capable."

Thorin knew that the learned-dwarf was likely correct. He wasn't exactly the most diplomatic of kings; that was what Balin was for. Thorin ran a hand over his face and groaned, "I wish Dain had not sent him."

'Well, he is here and he must be dealt with." Balin made a face and looked pointedly at his king.

"Out with it, Balin. I know you want to say something I won't like."

Balin nodded, "Perhaps it is time to accept your duties." He held up a hand as Thorin flushed and tried to speak. "I know that you care deeply for Abrâ, we all do, however you are the king and as such, must make sacrifices."

Thorin considered his friend before heaving a sigh. "You are right, of course." He placed a hand on Balin's shoulder. "I will go speak with Arfindel...and take my office more seriously."

***

The king, his general and his clerk made their way to the rooms assigned to Arfindel and his contingent. As they walked through Erebor Thorin was surprised by the number of dwarrow occupying the space.

"Where have all of these dwarrow come from?"

Dwalin explained, "These folk came from towns and cities nearby as soon as they heard that the mountain was open. We have been scrambling to get them housed and fed. There is not much usable space in the mountain yet."

"We'll have to get someone assigned to taking care of preparing rooms..." Thorin paused for a moment. "And we will have to negotiate for food..." he sighed, "which means either Laketown or Mirkwood..." he rolled his eyes.

As they approached the rooms occupied by Arfindel Thorin's stomach started to feel tight. He did not like this dwarf, he felt that there was a certain sliminess to his dealings. Nevertheless, he knocked on the door.

The door was opened by a young serving woman dressed in rich fabrics. She did not bow before gesturing for the 3 to enter. Dwalin's eyebrow shot up and he glanced to see Thorin's reaction. He saw the hardening of Thorin eyes and the slight flare of his nose.

Thorin inspected the room. It had been furnished with couches and chairs covered in soft chenille; through the bedroom door he could see a grand bed hung about with velvet curtains. It was much more luxurious than his simple bed in the corner of a room.

They were forced to stand in the entryway for many minutes. Thorin could feel his rage growing. Balin was shooting him 'keep calm' looks.

Arfindel entered through the bedroom door, attired in furs; his hair was elaborately braided into his beard. Unlike most dwarves, he carried himself with an almost foppish air. It was no wonder he got along so well with Thranduil. Thorin could not fathom how his cousin could stand him.

"Ah, Thorin! So good of you to pay me a visit." He crossed the room without bowing, his hand twisting in a flourish, indicating they should follow him.

Balin reached over and closed Thorin's mouth.

With a deep breath, Thorin followed the dandy dwarf.

"Can I offer you some tea?"

Thorin's smile did not reach his eyes, "No, thank you. I must speak to you in an official capacity."

"Oh?" Arfindel's eyebrows rose. "I thought your young nephew was tending to royal duties while you sat with the girl."

'The girl?' Thorin thought. 'Oh how I wish I could wrap my hands around your scrawny neck!'

"Miss Abrâ is starting to feel better, so I can resume my duties," Thorin grabbed the back of a chair and squeezed. "I have come to let you know that I have sent Thranduil away."

"Really?" Arfindel grinned. "I would have thought he would be an important ally at this point in time." He cocked his head to the side. "Surely feeding all of the dwarves in Erebor is soon going to be a problem."

"And that is where you will be essential to us," Thorin threw his arms wide. "As ambassador for my cousin, you will be able to inform him of our needs. I am sure that he will do whatever is in his ability to help us." He watched as Arfindel paled, wondering why he would be worried about returning home. "In the meantime we shall negotiate with our friends in Laketown."

"You wish for me to return to the Iron Hills?" Arfindel's voice shook slightly.

"Indeed! I trust you can be ready to return in..." Thorin glanced around the room, "...a day or two?"

The dwarf took a deep breath, "Your highness, surely I can serve you better from here? Perhaps you can send Fili-" at the sight of Thorin's arched brown, Arfindel corrected himself, "Prince Fili as your representative."

"No. I need him here. You will do fine." Thorin made his way to the door, turned and added, "The sooner you are ready to leave the better. We have much to do in order to return Erebor to its former glory."

As Thorin exited the door Arfindel scanned the room, his eyes darting from the splendid furniture to his servants. He sank down onto a chair and placed his head in his hands, this was not good at all.

***

Abrâ lay, her eyes closed, listening to the activity in the room. Oin and Gandalf were bustling about the room, preparing ointment and cloths for her treatment. Oin was complaining, "You should not have to stay here, Gandalf. I am capable of treating her wounds. It's not right, I am the medic."

"Master Oin, it does you no use complaining. We all must make accommodation for her."

Once again, Abrâ could feel tears on her cheeks. 'I must find some way to get out of here,' she thought. 'I am being a burden. I must get home to my people.' She decided she would do her best to stay awake to get an idea of the guards they had around...she shook her head slightly...guards, funny word to use; she felt trapped. People she loved, trusted and cared about were trying to help her and she felt like she was taking from them. What she had done was idiotic and stupid. No thought at all had gone into her actions and now everyone was paying for it.

That night she managed to stay awake. Thorin had returned and was sprawled in the chair beside her, snoring lightly. She looked at him with gentleness in her eyes. Thorin, her One; someone she could never touch. Abrâ was overcome with sadness; an overwhelming feeling of unfairness sat hard in her belly. Never before had she felt so deprived. The curse had limited her life, but never before had she felt completely denied.

She glanced around the room. No one else was there. She took a deep sigh and tried to grab the corner of the sheet; she concentrated on the act of moving her fingers. All she could manage to do was bend her fingers, she could not make her fingers actually grasp anything. She continued to try, frustration building each moment she put to the task. Sweat started to pour from her forehead, it stung as it met the burns on her face.

Quiet moans and grunts were coming from her; she jumped when the deep rumble beside her said, "Imrilamê*, stop. Please stop, you need to rest and get better."

Abrâ turned her head to Thorin, and shuddered, "Im-Imrilamê?"

Thorin smiled softly, "My One." He placed his hand as close as he dared to hers resting on the sheet. His blue eyes shone in the semi-darkness. "You will rest and when you are well we will sort out this curse and then you will be my Queen and we will bring Erebor back to its splendour."

"Thorin, Marlel**, I want nothing more than to live my life with you," she looked at him tenderly, "but we both know that will not happen. My people have been cursed for thousands of years. I don't think it is likely that we will suddenly break it."

Thorin's nostrils flared, "I will!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Love of all loves  
> **Love of mine


	14. Chapter 14

Thorin stood high above the doorway to Erebor. The dwarves bustling around looked tiny below him; Arfindel’s entourage were making their way around the dwarrow hard at work rebuilding the grand entrance.

Thorin looked out over his lands and sighed. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. So many questions were swirling through his mind; what to do about the hundreds of dwarrow who were streaming in most every day, how he was going to feed them all. There were also repairs taking place at Dale, humans from Laketown were determined to reclaim their own home.

Now he anticipated trouble with Dain. He still had no idea why his cousin had sent that buffoon to represent him. Perhaps he should have sent Dwalin with them to ensure all was well with Dain¼

And Abrâ. He sighed again. She was arguing to be allowed up and around. She was nowhere near healed enough to even consider getting out of bed, let alone working; but she was determined. Yesterday he had caught her trying to remove her blanket; today she had managed to pull it off.

Thorin took one last look down the valley and was just about to turn away when he saw something flash in the distance. He focused and shook his head. Another beardless wonder of an elf. He pushed himself away from the rock wall and made his way down to the vast foyer.

When the horse entered Erebor he was surprised to find 2 elves. Elves he recognized. They jumped down from their mount and bowed to Thorin.

“Greetings Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror,” Legolas declared with much grace.

“Welcome, Legolas Greenleaf,” Thorin placed a hand to his chest and nodded to the young elf.

Legolas gestured toward the female elf, “Might I introduce the leader of our forces, Tauriel.”

Tauriel stepped forward, bowed and spoke, “Majesty, we have come to warn you of imminent danger.”

Thorin raised a brow and chuckled. “And what could be so threatening?”

“An army of Orcs is being raised at Gundabad by the Necromancer. Azog the Defiler is his general.” Thorin’s blood ran cold. “They number in the thousands...”

Thorin gestured, “Come with me,” and led the elves to his meeting room. There he found Balin and his brother. He introduced everyone and told Legolas to repeat his information.

“Can you convince your father to fight?” Balin asked.

Tauriel spoke up, “I cannot think of any way to engage my Lord Thranduil, short of invading Mirkwood.”

Balin turned to Thorin, “We will need to send a message to Lord Dain,” he made a face. “And we will have to let the people of Dale know what is coming.”

 ***

Abrâ fixed Oin with a glare. “I will get up!”

Oin wagged his finger at the girl. “Young lady, you are much too ill to be up and about. I demand that you get back into that bed, right now!”

Abrâ was standing beside the bed, holding tightly to the bedpost. A sheen of sweat was across her brow, “And what are you going to do to stop me, Master Oin?”

By this point in her recovery the company no longer waited outside the door for news. At this exact moment in time, it was just Abrâ and Oin.

“Are you really going to walk out of here?” Oin raised a brow. “Naked?”

Abrâ pulled the blanket from the bed and gingerly wrapped it around herself before making a face at the older dwarf.

At that moment the door opened and Thorin stepped in. He took a breath and closed his eyes, what more was he going to have to deal with? “Abrâ, please get back into bed.”

“No!” She raised her chin. “I need to start moving, contributing...”

“Contributing? What are you talking about?”

Abrâ’s chin started to quiver. ‘Why do I keep crying,’ she thought to herself. “I am taking up everyone’s time. There is much to do, and Oin is here tending me, and Incànus has to keep coming to tend to me, and Kili brings food and tends to me...I am a burden.”

Thorin looked to Oin in order to ask him to leave and noted the fondness on the old dwarfs face. Oin caught the look Thorin gave him and excused himself.

Thorin sank down onto his haunches, “Abrâ, Ghivashel, you are no burden. And what do you mean to say you aren’t contributing? You have made a grave sacrifice.”

Abrâ looked confused.

“You are the one who ended the reign of Smaug. You saved us from him.” Thorin rose to his feet and continued, “Please get back into bed; you look like you will fall over any minute.”

Abrâ had to admit that standing for this length of time had taken all of her energy. Reluctantly, she sat. Thorin sat next to her. “You have no idea how I wish I could take you in my arms right now,” he whispered.

“Yes, I do.”

They sat in companionable silence for many moments.

“I think I need to complete my role with the ring.”

Thorin tensed, “What do you mean?”

“Incànus told me about it; he thinks it is the one ring.”

The learned amongst the people of middle-earth knew about the rings of power, although it was not spoken of. Abrâ had travelled enough to have learned about Isildur, while for Thorin it was part of tales immemorial.

“I can feel it,” she nodded her head, “it is calling to me. Thorin, I must destroy it!”

Thorin stared at her. “I do not want you to go. I want you to stay here forever.”

“And what, Thorin?” She desperately wanted to get up and pace. “We can’t marry, not least of all because of the curse,” she spat. “I am a lowly dam; not worthy of a king...”

“You are,” he said gruffly.

She smiled, “You know I would not be accepted.” A shadow passed over her, as she put her fingers to her face, “And now, I am even less...”

“Never in my eyes, Agyâdê.**”

**

Thorin met with Balin, Dwalin, Gandalf, the elves and Bard, who had joined the refugees at Dale.

Dwalin gave them an update, “We must be ready for any attack. I have instructed our best smiths to make an inventory of our weapons and to make repairs wherever needed. Once they have finished here, I will send them to Dale,” he nodded at Bard, “to assist you.”

“Our forces are very small. I have sent word to Laketown, hopefully the master will see fit to send troops.”

Gandalf snorted, “The snivelling coward should, if he knows what is good for him. Surely if they get past our defences they will head straight for Esgaroth.” He paused for a moment, before pointing the tip of his pipe at Legolas, “If Azog the Defiler is amassing an army at Gundabad then I have no doubt that another is being sent from Dol Goldur. Legolas, you must return to Mirkwood and warn Thranduil.”

“I do not think my father will listen.”

“None the less,” he replied in his gravelly tone, “You must warn him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** my happiness


	15. Chapter 15

Fili was not sure how he had managed to make the arrangements Abrâ needed for her quest. He had enlisted the help of Nori to gather supplies; although technically not stolen, Nori had a knack for secreting away most anything. It was not difficult to convince Kili to go with her in his stead; he was young and full of adventurous spirit.

In a surprisingly quick time, Bifur and Bofur had put together a springed cart to carry Abrâ until she was well enough to ride. It was compact, but robust and should manage their needs quite well.

Abrâ was preparing herself, as well. Every day she rose from her bed, despite protests from Oin, and made regular circuits around her chamber and the corridor outside. She did this as often as possible, pushing herself farther each time.

It was not long before all of the preparations were complete. The foursome had decided that this was the night to leave.

Abrâ sat up in bed, her sketchbook opened up beside her, as she tried to compose a letter to Thorin. She knew he would be angry; no, not angry – absolutely livid! She would be lucky to survive his wrath, if he were to catch them.

_My dearest Thorin,_

_It is with the heaviest of hearts that I write this letter. You know why I have had to leave; I do not need to explain it to you. However, I beg of you not to be angry. I will do everything within my abilities to keep everyone safe._

_I do not know if I will return to you. I do not know if my quest will give us the result we both desire. I DO know that what I am about to attempt is necessary._

_Mahal be with you._

_All my love,_

_Abrâ_

She read over the letter and re-wrote it.

_Thorin,_

_It is with the heaviest of hearts that I write this letter. You know why I have had to leave; I do not need to explain it to you. However, I beg of you not to be angry. I will do everything within my abilities to keep everyone safe._

_I do not know if I will return. I do not know if my quest will give me the result I desire. I DO know that what I am about to attempt is necessary._

_Mahal be with you._

_Abrâ_

She could not bear to leave her heart exposed on a sheet of paper. She was torn by this decision. She didn’t want to leave Thorin, but to stay with the curse still upon her was abhorrent. It was cruel and selfish.

She jumped as a knock was heard at her door. “Come in,” she called.

Gandalf entered the room in a flourish and set a 2-pint sized container and a bag on the table. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat and observed her for many moments.

Finally, he spoke, “So, you are going?”

“Going? Where am I going?”

Gandalf cocked an eyebrow at her and cleared his throat. “Hurrumph. I know what you lot are up to.”

“You lot? Wh-“

“Abrâ, you cannot fool me.” He rose from the bed and opened the bag. He pulled out a second bag and a set of underclothes. “These are lined with silk,” he explained as he turned back to her. “They are less likely to chafe.” He reached behind and grabbed the other bag. “This should be enough bandaging,” he placed his forefinger on the container, “and this enough salve. Be sure to get an even coating of the salve and securely, but not too tightly, wrap your burns in the bandaging. Then put the silkies on under your clothes.”

Abrâ's voiced cracked, “Incànus,” she paused to gain control of her breathing.

Gandalf crossed again to her bed. Gingerly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leaned her head against his ribs. “There, there, girl. I understand the call of the ring.” Abrâ looked up at him sharply. “I, too, can hear it; but it is you who must take it. You and the lizard are connected to the ring in a way even Sauron could not understand.” He wiped the tears that were falling, streaming down her face. “I have absolute faith in you.”

Abrâ threw her arms around Gandalf’s waist and exclaimed, “Ouch!” but she did not let go. She hugged him to her tightly and mumbled into his robes, “I’m scared, Incànus. Terribly frightened.”

“You are wise to be so,” he lifted her chin and fixed her gaze. “Of anybody in this mountain you, and you alone, know what to expect from Mordor.” He took a firm hold of her chin and grinned at her, “Keep them safe, I don’t know how Thorin would react to any harm coming to any of them.”

He kissed her forehead, he really was quite fond of her, and left her to ponder her upcoming adventure.

At midnight, freshly bandaged, and wearing her new silkies, Abrâ sat at her table waiting. Bofur knocked lightly and sprang into the room, his normal, jovial self. “Are ya ready?” he virtually shouted.

“Shhh,” Abrâ put her finger to her lip. “We don’t want anyone to know.”

Bofur had the good sense to look abashed. He grimaced, “Sorry,” and pointed at the pack on the table, “that you, then?”

Abrâ grinned, it was almost impossible to remain angry with the dwarf, “Yes, that is all.”

“You’ve got your medicine?”

Abrâ nodded, yes.

“And bandages?”

Again, a nod.

“Clothes?”

“Yes, Bofur! I have everything I should need.”

“Alright then, the others are waiting just outside the gates.”

Abrâ insisted on walking to the rendez-vous, which took some time, as she had to frequently lean against a wall to catch her breath. She sighed happily when she saw her little trap, travelling was going to take a long time to become accustomed to. Each companion had a pony readied, plus there were two more: 1 to pull the trap and another to carry the other supplies. Once Abrâ was able to ride, the trap would be abandoned.

Fili stepped forward and longed to hug Abrâ, instead he put his lips close to her ear, “Take care of my brother.”

She smiled softly, “You know I will.” She swallowed hard in an attempt to hold back her tears. “Watch over him, Fili. Don’t get too frustrated by him; he loves you.”

“And he loves you!” Abrâ felt like she was breaking inside, so badly did she want to comfort Fili. “You need to come back.”

A cloud of uncertainty flitted across her face, “I will do my best.”

Fili followed her to the trap and felt helpless as he watched her struggle up onto the little seat. As she grasped the sides of the trap to pull herself in she clenched her teeth to hold back her wince of pain. Every touch felt like her skin was being stripped from her body, but she no longer had anyone she could count on to help her, and thus must return to doing for herself.

Bofur, Bifur, Kili and Bilbo all swung themselves up into their saddles, while Abrâ gave a click of her teeth and a brisk snap of the reins.

***

High above the gates of Erebor two tall dwarves watched the little caravan pull away.

***

**Author's Note:**

> *Gandalf – a name acquired in his travels near Harad


End file.
